


Leisure

by muffinpoodle



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dildos, M/M, Porn, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-04
Updated: 2012-11-04
Packaged: 2017-11-17 23:09:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/554214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muffinpoodle/pseuds/muffinpoodle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Petyr had had to guess what Varys had up his sleeve, it wouldn't have been <em>that</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leisure

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't quite sure whether I was writing for the book characters or the movie characters here, so there are elements of both.

“Lord Varys. This is a…surprise,” said Petyr Baelish upon entering the room. (There was a conspicuous gap in this statement where the word ‘pleasant’ could have fit.) Varys the Spider was sitting in his chair, in his office, in his whorehouse, smelling not unpleasantly of berries and patchouli.  
  
“Lord Baelish,” Varys greeted him with a polite incline of his head. “I was passing through the district on an errand and thought to pay you a visit.”  
  
Petyr noticed how Varys’s hands were hidden in his sleeves and furtively glanced around the room to check that everything was in its place. “How kind,” he said, a smirk pulling at his lips.  
  
“Work can be so taxing, it is a relief to share some leisure time with a friend,” Varys remarked. He was wearing that mysterious smile that suggested he was hinting at a private joke. Petyr’s smirk grew in response, as it always did.  
  
“I have a new friend here from the Summer Isles who could tend your leisure,” he said, gesturing out the door to the rest of the brothel. “However a eunuch might make use of his company.”  
  
“Thank you for your kind offer. I did hear you’d had some new arrivals,” Varys responded, neither accepting nor refusing him, and making Petyr wonder not for the first time which of his employees he shared with the Spider.  
  
“I am a man who enjoys getting new things,” Petyr confirmed, moving at last from the doorway to put the files of papers he was holding down on the desk. He was close enough to stand over his fellow councilman now, who did not stand to match his height.  
  
“Truly, you exemplify the joy of receiving,” Varys told him. Petyr only grinned at the mocking compliment. Varys pulled his arms out of his sleeves then, and revealed what he’d been holding this whole time. Petyr raised his eyebrows in quiet surprise. “This must be new, too, or very well looked after. The only fingerprints I can see are my own,” Varys said in admiring tones, weighing the glass toy in his hands. It was new; come from the Summer Isles along with the prostitute he’d mentioned earlier, and various other purchases. Seven and a half inches of shining glass, expertly crafted in the shape of an erect phallus.  
  
“It will doubtless need cleaning afresh in a moment,” said Petyr. When Varys looked at him, amused like he wasn’t sure Petyr knew what he’d just suggested, Petyr feigned distaste. “Because of your fingerprints,” he clarified, and then turned and leaned back against the desk beside where Varys sat, because there was something oddly transfixing about the way Varys handled the thing that made Petyr want to just sit and watch. “Masterful work, wouldn‘t you say?”  
  
“It  _is_ beautiful,” said Varys softly, which might have seemed funnier if it wasn’t obviously true. The ridges of veins could be seen down the shaft of the dildo as Varys turned it in the light. The maker had even sculpted the folds of foreskin pulled back from the head (obviously not functional, but otherwise realistic in shape). Most strikingly, and probably what warranted its being called beautiful, were the curling ribbons of many coloured dyes suspended within the glass, like thin smoke frozen in mid-waft.  
  
“Its maker seems to have a fondness for unusual touches in her work. I have no idea how that coloured effect was achieved, although I have some passing knowledge of glass-blowing myself,” Petyr commented. He felt a little warmer watching pink fingers trace over subtle curves, and was starting to forget to be suspicious about why Varys was here.  
  
The eunuch looked at him slyly. “I could picture you blowing glass.”  
  
To his credit, Petyr’s eyes only widened for a second. Varys had curled a loose fist around the dildo and was stroking its length gently, absent-mindedly, as if he didn’t realise he was doing it. As _if_ he didn’t realise.  
  
“I don’t work here in that capacity,” Petyr said. His mouth felt over-wet. He licked his lips. Varys’s thumb traced the glass cock’s helmeted head.  
  
“Few glass blowers make their livings in pleasure houses,” said Varys, wickedly pretending not to have been suggesting anything.  
  
Petyr laughed, but his reply was a touch impatient: “Then perhaps it’s for the best I’m not one, given where I choose to work.” Varys was teasing him. He never would simply get to the point you already knew he was driving at. If he wanted to be pushed to it, Petyr would give him a push.  
  
From the desk he picked up a thing like a thin, soft leather belt, with extra straps and a metal hoop in place of a buckle. “See how this works? The dildo is pushed through this hoop, and the straps are tightened to fit your hips and legs. I’m told it’s quite comfortable, and no doubt very helpful to a man in your position.” Varys patiently attended Petyr’s words, still moving soft fingers distractingly over glass skin. “Have you ever worn one?”  
  
“Do you ask out of curiosity, or are you posing an invitation?” Varys wondered.  
  
“You are a source of endless curiosity to many,” Petyr answered, without answering at all.  
  
Varys’s eyes twinkled with humour. He took his hand from the dildo finally to cover his mouth as he giggled. “How kind of you to say so,” he said. “It comes with my duties, I fancy.”  
  
“And do you come to me on some duty?” asked Petyr (remembering, now that Varys had stopped fondling his rainbow penis, that he had wanted to find this out). “Or for leisure, as you say?” He toyed with the leather straps of the harness, one finger running the rim of the silver hoop, while he eyed Varys suggestively, finding he easily dared to.  
  
“The latter,” said Varys, “and on the hope that you might consent to gratify us both on that point. After all,” he added, “one does so enjoy new things.”  
  
“Very keen,” Petyr laughed, proffering the harness. “Forgive me though if I don’t believe you’re so new to this.”  
  
“Hurtful words,” Varys said, not hurt at all. He stood, pushing back his chair, and slid the toy slowly through the silver ring, letting it brush Petyr’s fingers and slide against his wrist as it moved towards him, until it moved no further, kept from falling out by its flared, flat base.  
  
Petyr gazed back up at Varys. “I’ve wondered for a long time what you look like under your robes,” he told him. It was hot under his collar and between his legs, and his head buzzed with anticipation. He held the cock in its harness and waited.  
  
“Perhaps you’ll forgive me for withholding that knowledge til now,” Varys said, fingers sliding from his collar to the tie around his waist to undo it. “Though I’m afraid it may have been a little cruel of me. You’ve had so long to stew on the thought it would be small wonder if I didn’t live up to your imaginings.” He stepped out of his slippers and let go his robes, which slid down his skin with a sigh to deflate on the floor.  
  
Petyr let go of a breath. Varys’s skin was pale pink and smooth; his edges soft and faintly curved, a whisper of something womanly. There was nothing between his legs - no trace of manhood, no lingering scar, and no woman’s gash as Petyr had suspected - naught but blushing pink skin and a small, dark hole; too small even for a little finger.  
  
“Would you?” Varys asked, and Petyr glanced back up at his face to see he had shame enough to blush at his nakedness, little as there was to hide and small matter it made given the location. Petyr dropped gently to his knees and held the harness out for Varys to step into. Varys turned when it was around his hips for Petyr to fasten it to fit. Petyr looked up at him now, and Varys smiled rather prettily down at him, and Petyr thought the fanciful glass cock seemed to easily become a part of him.  
  
“It suits you,” he said, and noticed that his lips were very close to it. He had a thought to take it into his mouth, but some imagined dignity still restrained him. The image was a stirring one, however. He settled for sliding one hand up the warm skin of Varys’s thigh to play at the space between his legs. He looked up and saw that Varys’s blush had spread to his neck. “Do you feel something, when I do this?” he wondered aloud.  
  
“Yes,” Varys sighed, “It is a pleasant feeling. Ah, your fingers were cool, but they are warming, that‘s what I feel...”  
  
“If I keep doing this, will you come?” Petyr asked. “If I use my tongue, perhaps?” Feeling bold about it, he gripped the dildo for purchase and leant in to do just that, hot tongue lapping at soft skin while his beard tickled at Varys’s thighs. His skin smelt of some sweet powder and tasted faintly of sweat and spices. Petyr’s erection ached to be touched, but he didn’t indulge it. He was well-practised at denying his cock what it wanted.  
  
Gentle fingers twined through his dark hair and pulled Petyr from his task. “I’d beg you disrobe, dear Petyr,” said Varys. “Fair is, after all, only fair.”  
  
Petyr smiled sassily and got to his feet to comply. He undid his doublet and folded it carefully over the back of his chair; shirt and breeches followed. His shoes he placed under his desk; his undergarments on the seat. He stood before Varys naked, and determined not to feel shy about it, difficult as that was with the Spider’s eyes roaming all over his lean body. Petyr was not muscled, grew only trace hair on his chest and stomach and under his arms; and his manhood, stiffened and swollen though it was, he felt was nothing to remark upon. But Varys came up shorter by far in all of these departments, and Petyr’s arousal wasn’t waning for that, so he supposed he had nothing to be ashamed of.  
  
Varys’s index finger traced the ridge of white scar from Petyr’s collarbone to his hip. Cold glass brushed against the head of Petyr’s prick, and he gasped aloud. Varys leaned forward and caught his open mouth in an unexpected kiss. Petyr’s tongue darted forward to meet Varys’s. His mouth tasted sweet, like passionfruit. Varys backed him against the desk, and Petyr was too surprised and lustful to resist him.  
  
Hands that were usually so ginger and delicate grasped his hips with a surprising firmness, angling him so that Varys could push up against him and have the cool glass cock slide between Petyr’s legs, pressing against his balls and between his buttocks. Petyr’s erection was caught between their stomachs. He rocked his hips experimentally, and ah, that did feel good. He doubted if Varys could garner such pleasure on his empty plane.  
  
Suddenly Varys’s mouth was on his neck and Petyr let out a cry of startled pleasure before he knew to stop himself. Oh, he was licking and sucking at Petyr’s pulse just so, and Petyr had never known he had wanted anyone to do that to him, but now he would be loathe to have it stop.  
  
Presently though, he missed the feel of that tongue rolling against his own, and this time he took the initiative. Petyr liked kissing very much, since he was a boy, and though the years had not afforded him over-many chances, he liked to think he was good at it. He didn’t think he’d ever been kissed quite like this, so heady and heated, but he gave as good as he got, with a calculated tilt of his head, an arch of his back, and a playful tug at Varys’s lower lip with his teeth. His hands wandered; up Varys’s sides, groping over sweetly rounded curves, to rub and pinch at pink buds of nipples that stiffened under his ministrations. Varys’s fingertips whispered to his body, tracing lovely messages over his back, his neck, his hips. Petyr shivered at his tingling touch and rolled his hips again, carelessly; not rhythmically; a softer movement than those of his mouth and hands.  
  
Varys’s touch roamed and palms flattened against the curve of Petyr’s arse, and he was being pushed, lifted - again with force his didn’t know Varys had in him - to sit up on the desk. He leaned back on his hands, doubtless looking an awful mess with his hair mussed and his legs all disorderly. A sticky, translucent trail still connected him to Varys, cock to hip, until Varys broke the thread with his finger and slid it into Petyr’s mouth with a devious expression. Petyr rolled his tongue forward, testing his own taste, salty and underwhelming. Varys made to pull away, but Petyr wasn’t letting go that easily; he caught Varys’s wrist and sucked hard on his finger, tongue rubbing and teeth gently scraping. Varys’s eyes darkened measurably, and he sucked his lips inward, a short moan sticking in his throat.  
  
Petyr released Varys’s finger, but not his arm, and kissed his way with an audacious tongue down Varys’s palm and over his wrist.  
  
“That is lovely,” said Varys appreciatively, lending Petyr encouragement he hardly needed, but soon he pulled his hand from Petyr’s grip and ran it through his hair, murmuring, “I’d love you to show me what you know of glass blowing.”  
  
“The bed,” ordered Petyr, not caring to admit any nervousness, “go and lie down on that bed.”  
  
“A most intelligent choice,” said Varys benignly, and Petyr watched him saunter over to the far wall. There was a way he moved his hips that had never been evident with a robe covering him - or perhaps that was just for Petyr. Varys reclined on the well-cushioned mattress, and Petyr grinned and followed.  
  
He knelt between Varys’s calves and licked his way up a supple thigh. He was quick and cunning with his tongue in every respect, this he knew, and he sucked and licked and bit at one spot high on Varys’s inner thigh until there was a kiss-coloured bruise there to prove it.  
  
His cheek brushed against sleek glass. He laid his tongue against the skin below the ring of the harness, and, taking Varys’s cock in hand, licked it in one long motion from base to tip. He had a clever tongue, and he had taught enough whores to suck cock to know how best to make a show of it. Varys watched him, docile but sharply attentive, as he made his show. One hand pumped a steady rhythm over the lower half of the shaft, while he rolled his tongue over the glass head and lapped at the tip until finally closing his mouth around it. His head bobbed up and down, matching the timing of his hand, and the thumb of his free hand rubbed at the skin between Varys’s legs as Petyr took more of Varys’s sizeable cock into his mouth, determined to take as much as he could.  
  
“No more than you can manage, my lord,” said Varys, which only made Petyr try harder, until the head of the thing hit the back of his throat and he choked and spluttered on it and had to pull back, and Varys had the gall to laugh at him. Petyr waited until he’d indulged his little amusement, but he felt a little petulant about it and didn’t wish to continue his efforts. He brushed his thumb over Varys’s taint, anyway, just to see Varys’s thighs quiver. “Dear, sweet Petyr,” said Varys, and took Petyr’s wrists, pulling him forward onto his hands and knees above him. “I did warn you.” He smiled almost fondly, then lifted his head to kiss Petyr again, and Petyr didn’t stay terribly annoyed for long.  
  
Over what felt like ages, many wonderful ages spent with pliant lips against his and a silky hand thoughtfully caressing his cock and balls, Petyr’s desire built inside him, a wild, hot, emboldening thing curling and twisting low in his belly. “Why don’t you let me fuck you,” he suggested. He’d had enough idle daydreams of doing the same; now it seemed he had a chance live them out. He pressed a finger against Varys’s warm entrance, to strengthen his point.  
  
Varys shook his head; Petyr let himself frown. “Will you hear my counter proposal?” Varys asked, and before Petyr could answer there were hands on his hips and the tip of a glass dick between his cheeks. “Let us try it the other way around.”  
  
Petyr’s voice knew he liked that idea before his brain did, and an approving “ah” sprang from his throat without his consent. A somewhat more intelligent reply followed momentarily - “Your proposal has some merit.” His heart was beating faster than he would have it do. He felt behind him for the dildo, and stroked it contemplatively. “It’s much bigger than a finger,” he said conversationally; one or two fingers of his own were all he’d ever taken.  
  
“I can be very gentle,” Varys simpered.  
  
“I don’t doubt that gentle treatment of arseholes is in your nature,” quipped Petyr, making Varys smile mincingly. “I’ll take you up on your offer, if you’ll tell me what you really want from me.”  
  
“Goodness gracious,” Varys said, “were my first two answers so unsatisfactory?”  
  
“If I’m slow to believe a eunuch of seeking out sex, forgive me. My cynicism is something of a defect in my character.”  
  
“You seem to think joylessness is one of mine. There’s more to it than  _these_ , my dear.” He squeezed Petyr’s balls in his hand, and Petyr let out a breath of laughter that was at once pleased and uncertain.  
  
“Dear to you, am I? Your dear, sweet Petyr,” his tone was absent and restrained; Varys’s hands were doing things that made it hard to concentrate.  
  
“Do I hope in vain that you regard me in the same light?” Varys pouted. He trailed his hand down Petyr’s abdomen to his cock, and stroked it languidly.  
  
Petyr held onto Varys’s knees and shifted forward into Varys’s grip. “ _There’s_ my regard for you,” he said, closing his eyes to the pleasure.  
  
“High esteem, truly,” tittered Varys, and rubbed his cock against Petyr’s hole, making Petyr ache inside in a way that let him know he really  _did_ want to be taken. Varys pumped his hand faster. “Then shall we have some oil or lotion?”  
  
“Yes, yes,” gasped Petyr, thrusting without control. “Easy, please!”  
  
Varys let go suddenly. After a moment’s respite, Petyr got unsteadily to his feet and fetched a jar of scented oil from the cupboard, the first jar he lay his hand on. He brought it back to Varys, who inspected it interestedly, unscrewed the top and gave it a sniff. “What a delightful aroma,” he remarked. “Lavender, lily, I think…oh, it’s like standing in a wild garden.”  
  
“Perhaps you should keep it and use it for your perfume,” said Petyr, not minding at all the idea of giving away a little jar in exchange for having a reminder in days to come of the act they were about to pursue.  
  
“It’s very like some I already have,” said Varys. Petyr leaned in for a whiff, and had to admit he could recall Varys smelling quite similar in the past. Reminder enough, then.  
  
“So it is. No wonder you sometimes remind me of a whore,” jested Petyr, his derision all harmless japery.  
  
“One of few enough reasons, I hope!”  
  
“At least your care for my pleasure comes free of charge.” (He still wasn’t certain it did.) Petyr lay back and watched Varys dip his finger into the oil before setting the jar aside.  
  
“Your pleasure is my pleasure,” Varys purred, pressing a well-lubricated fingertip inside Petyr, slow and easy as you like. Petyr hummed and spread his legs, and felt a cool, wet trickle escape down the crease of his buttocks to the bed sheets.  
  
“You take your time with this,” Petyr said torpidly, after a lazy minute of watching Varys keep at his work with a single finger. “Are you that concerned for my poor bottom?”  
  
“I am always gentle with arseholes,” said Varys promptly, which made Petyr tip his head back to laugh so that he was scarcely expecting the second finger. Varys smiled mawkishly to see Petyr’s resultant tremor, and Petyr gave him a peevish look he didn’t really mean to be taken seriously.  
  
“The lies are what hurt me the most,” he sighed. Varys’s expression only turned more saccharine. He picked up his pace a little, but even so the process took long enough for Petyr’s eyelids to droop dozily again, being too gradually eased into the sensation of Varys’s fingers inside him to find it very unnatural. To his credit, the eunuch didn’t seem to tire. “I’m impressed,” Petyr admitted eventually. “Given the limp way you usually hold them, I wouldn’t have believed your wrists had the stamina to keep this up.  _Oh_ ,” he gasped lightly as the movement inside him quickened and deepened. When had Varys added a third finger, the sly creature? He hadn’t even felt it. Petyr arched his back, the extent of his lust suddenly resurfacing with a vengeance when Varys briefly brushed a sweet spot deep inside him. Those long, deft, marvellous fingers. Petyr reached up to grasp Varys behind the neck and pulled him down to claim his mouth aggressively. Varys spread his fingers, stroked him, hit that spot a second time; a third. Petyr moaned wantonly into Varys’s kiss.  
  
“I rather think you’re ready for more, don’t you?” Varys said breathlessly when Petyr broke away from his lips. He was blushing a pleasant shade of cerise, and his pleasure-haze Petyr willingly believed Varys was really getting something out of this.  
  
“More,” Petyr agreed, hungrily, pulling Varys’s face down to his neck. Varys kissed and nibbled at the flesh of Petyr’s throat as he slowly pulled his fingers out, and then he was sitting back up straight and going for the scented oil again. He dipped his fingers in and smeared a generous helping on his glass cock, stroking up and down, covering it well and thoroughly. The lubricant made it glimmer afresh in the room’s warm light. Petyr spared only a moment’s thought for the aesthetic before urging Varys put it inside him.  
  
Varys leaned forward, hands on the mattress either side of Petyr’s head. The redolence of lavender, lily, patchouli and berries mingled with sweat and pre-cum hung heavy in the air. The tip of the dildo entered Petyr with a soft wet sound. Varys moved his hips forward slowly,  _agonisingly_ slowly, and Petyr, feeling himself being stretched and filled beyond what he’d expected, didn’t dare move to speed the process. He grit his teeth and dug his fingertips into Varys’s shoulders, finding pleasure still in the pain. For there was pain, but it was a muted ache and a good ache, sweet and deeply fulfilling. The glass was smooth and unyielding as it slid against his inner walls; deeper, deeper, until he could feel leather and skin against his thighs and buttocks.  
  
Varys shrugged his shoulders lightly under Petyr’s grasp; Petyr took the hint and relaxed his fingers, letting his tension rush out of him in a sigh as the little last of the pain ebbed away. He looked up at Varys. There was a strange look on the eunuch’s face, like he was seeing something he hadn’t expected to, and wasn’t quite sure what it was. Petyr’s expression must have mirrored his some, for he couldn’t figure what Varys must be thinking. He moved his hands up to Varys’s neck and held him firm as he could with palms slippery with sweat, running a hard thumb down Varys’s throat. “Are you going to stare at me with your moon eyes, or are you going to fuck me?” The last few words came out a low rasp. Varys made a low fluttering noise, and gently began to roll his hips.  
  
Soon Petyr had to let go of Varys and fist his fingers into the bedding to keep himself anchored. Varys pumped in and out of him; not too hard, not too fast, but  _enough_. “Gods,” Petyr hissed, grinding against Varys’s hips for more.  
  
Varys paused after some minutes to take Petyr’s leg and hitch it up over his shoulder, and encouraged Petyr to roll onto his side. Petyr’s hips were glad of the change in position. When Varys started pumping in and out of him again, the pace was easier; the angle different; and Petyr found himself having to do nothing but lay on his side and let Varys do the work. One long stroke saw Varys brush his prostate with an agonising deliberate slowness, so that Petyr had to bite a clenched fist to muffle his reply - but Varys’s hand grasped Petyr’s wrist and pulled his hand away so that the last half of Petyr’s moan resounded loud and clear around the room. Petyr tingled all over with shame and burning arousal at that. His mouth wide with hot breath, Petyr turned his head to cast a lusty, piercing glare at Varys. Varys’s fingers slid warm and wet up his body and curled in his hair, keeping Petyr’s gaze on him. A second hand went between his legs to cup his balls, then grasp his cock and stroke it. Petyr rocked into his fist as Varys’s cock moved hard inside him.  
  
Petyr’s neck began to ache, but he loved the feel of soft fingertips firmly massaging his scalp. Even as lost to time as he was - it could have been minutes or hours - it felt an unreasonable while before Varys moved to change positions again. He pulled out of Petyr, less gently than he’d pushed in, and let him go. Petyr relaxed on his side, relieved to rest his neck and the hip he’d stretched dangling his knee over Varys’s shoulder. It lasted but a moment, though; as Varys’s hand wandered to his chest to tweak Petyr’s nipple, he whispered sweetly, “On your hands and knees, my dear.”  
  
The look of insolence he shot Varys made no difference to Petyr’s amenability.  
  
This time, with Varys behind him and in total control, the angle was right for Varys to fuck him harder, deeper, faster than before. And he picked it up quickly. Petyr pushed back against Varys’s thighs almost instinctively, still surprised at how much more dazed with lust he could become. He reached underneath him to stroke his cock, closing his eyes as if in deep concentration. Varys’s hand soon batted his away and took up that task, though, and Petyr acquiesced to him; it was better when it wasn’t his hand - good gods, almost unbearably so. He was thrusting into Varys’s fist to one rhythm while trying to keep up with the one Varys was fucking him with, and all the while a hot, heavy pressure was building in him, tightening his balls and making his head go dizzy so that he could scarcely form sensible thoughts. “Fuck me, yes, harder, _harder_ ,” he found himself repeating in a strained murmur; “Yes, yes,  _oh, yes_.”  
  
Varys’s belly flattened against his back and he felt a hot breath panting against his ear. “Come, Petyr, come now,” Varys crooned, and the second hand joined his first to squeeze Petyr’s balls. With a rasping, wordless shout, Petyr came, and came hard, jerking and shuddering and spilling spurts of his seed all over the bed sheets and Varys’s palm. Varys stroked him through it, and kept moving inside him, slower, until Petyr was all spent. Petyr’s elbows buckled and he let his head fall into his arms on the bed. He was hot and cool all over with sweat, and his body shivered in the aftermath of orgasm. He had no words to speak. He couldn’t remember ever having come that hard.  
  
Still inside him, Varys took his hand and rubbed the semen from it into Petyr’s back; a sticky massage, but sensuous. Petyr stayed still until his body ached again and Varys’s cock began to feel uncomfortable inside him, then he pulled away and lay down on his back. Varys sat gracefully down between his knees, the glass dildo jutting regally from his crotch and glistening with lubricant.  
  
Petyr smiled a lazy, wolfish smile. “Few people could look so dainty wearing nothing but a false cock,” he commented.  
  
“Oh, do you think I should take it off? I wasn’t sure it would be polite,” confessed Varys.  
  
“Indeed, what does a eunuch know of bedroom matters?” Petyr said dryly. Varys’s answering smile was the picture of innocence. “As I’ve just experienced.” Petyr drew his knees up to nudge Varys’s sides. “And now you’ve revealed as much to me, can I expect the meaning of your visit to come clear to me too?”  
  
Varys’s smile seemed not so innocent now. Petyr was quietly taken aback by the devilish gleam in his eyes. “To tell you truly,” Varys said, and leaned down to whisper in Petyr’s ear, “I just wanted to see you on all fours.”  
  
Told truly or not, Petyr found himself looking at Varys with a new kind of respect after that. And if a whiff of lavender or lily ever inspired some involuntary public reaction, well…the Small Council table could hide it well enough from all but one.


End file.
